Another Life: Year Three
by WerewolfDoctor
Summary: Sequel to Another Life: Year Two. What if Sirius escaped when Harry was nine and rescued Harry from the Dursleys. Abandoned
1. Chapter 1

_A/N Firstly, I'm so sorry about how long this has been to get out. My only excuse is that I've had loads of difficulty settling down in Uni, and am just recovering from a nasty bout of flu. Anyway, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, hope it's all right. And sorry this chapter is a bit shorter than usual, but I wanted to get it out. _

Harry Potter and his godfather, Sirius Black, were play-wrestling on the floor when the third member of their cobbled together family entered the room holding a copy of the Daily Prophet. Remus Lupin watched Harry and Sirius with a small smile on his face, almost not wanting to interrupt them, _if there ever were two people who deserved happiness, it would be them._

"Sirius," he said, sighing when he went ignored, "Sirius! Sirius, you need to look at this." Reluctantly, Sirius and Harry untangled themselves and wandered over to Remus to look at the newspaper. The headline read,

_**Sirius Black, Back In England?**_

_**Is Mass Murderer Sirius Black Terrorising Our Shores Once More?**_

Sirius gave his distinctive bark like laugh. "Remus, surely you can't be worried. They come out with something new every week. Last time they were saying I was in Tunisia. They've got nothing."

"It's not that I'm worried about," Remus replied grimly, "look down," and sure enough, further down the page it said,

_**As an extra security measure, Dementors will posted around the perimeter and entrances of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge has commented on the move that …**_

Sirius looked paler than any of the ghosts Harry had seen at Hogwarts, his eyes wide and frightened and his whole body frozen. He was also clutching Harry's arm so tightly Harry was sure the blood had stopped flowing. The pain this was causing to Harry was irrelevant to him, however: Harry had only heard Sirius talk about his time in Azkaban and the Dementors occasionally, but it was always in the same low, fearful tone. Harry loved and respected his godfather above all others, even Remus (just) and what Sirius feared, Harry feared doubly.

"Dementors at Hogwarts," Sirius whispered, "what were they thinking. What about the students?" Then louder, angrier, "What if the Dementors get Harry?" But then suddenly deflated again. "This is all my fault."

Remus looked at Harry helplessly. There was nothing _he_ could do when Sirius got into one of these moods, but, as much as the small jealous part of him hated to admit it, it had been _him_ who had been friends with Sirius since they were children after all; Sirius and Harry shared a special connection. Harry gave Remus a small smile, and then whacked Sirius on the arm, jerking him out of his brooding. "Don't be stupid Sirius, this isn't your fault: it's the fault of the idiot Ministry. And don't worry about me; I'll be fine," he gave a lopsided grin, "I always am," Sirius grinned shakily back before pulling Harry into a bone crushing hug,

"Just … be careful around those Dementors, all right," Harry raised an eyebrow at the Marauder, "I know, I know, just, promise me?"

"I promise," Harry said, knowing how much it meant to his godfather.

Of course, the problem wasn't solved with one mushy conversation and a hug. Sirius would frequently sink into a mood, pacing the dark halls and muttering under his breath. Remus knew that, for the first time in years, Sirius was once again becoming truly obsessed with finding, catching, and killing Peter Pettigrew. In his mind, it was the only way to keep Harry safe from the Dementors. Some days it took all Remus' effort to stop his reckless friend throwing caution to the wind and hunting Pettigrew again. Some days, it took all of Remus' effort to keep himself from joining him. Only the thought of Harry stopped them.

A week later something happened that drove thoughts of Dementors from their minds.

Albus Dumbledore visited Grimmauld Place.

It was not an uncommon occurrence, especially when Dumbledore had first discovered Harry's location, but this visit had a particular purpose to it. One that, Sirius and Harry thought as they tried and failed to hide their smirking grins, they really should have foreseen.

"… Which is why I think you would make an excellent Defence Against The Dark Arts Professor,"

"Me?" Remus' mouth was wide and gaping. It was not an expression they were used to seeing on the usually verbose man,

"Indeed. Harry has often told of how you have helped and taught him, it has proved most effective," before either Harry or Remus could look embarrassed Sirius interjected,

"Hey! I helped too!" Dumbledore chuckled,

"I have no doubt that you are an magnificent teacher to Harry. But your speciality was never Defence, and we already have an excellent Transfiguration Professor. Besides…" Dumbledore trailed off. None of them wanted to mention the fact that Sirius was still a wanted 'murderer', but the mood in the room chilled all the same. Dumbledore stiffened, "Well, Remus, what do you say?"

"Albus, I', a werewolf, there's no way the parents will accept me as a teacher,"

"Don't worry Remus, I have arranged for Severus to make you Wolfsbane Potion,

Harry and Sirius were both beaming. Harry said ,"Well this is brilliant. I think you'll br the best defence teacher ever."


	2. Chapter 2

Despite the promise of Wolfsbane Potion and Harry and Sirius' encouragement (to be honest, a better word for it might be 'nagging') Remus was still reluctant to take the Defence Against The Dark Arts position at Hogwarts. Of course, he remembered with the utmost gratitude how Dumbledore had ably managed his lycanthropy when he was a student, but to be in a position of power, surrounded by students, terrified him. He was even nervous being in the same house as Harry, even when he was locked in the basement and protected by Sirius in his dog form. But no matter how much he protested, he was no match for the combined efforts of Harry, Sirius and Dumbledore, and eventually Remus was signed as Hogwarts' new Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher. Harry had been overjoyed, not least because he would finally get a competent teacher for Defence Against The Dark Arts – his favourite subject. That evening they had hardly been able to get him to settle down to bed. Sirius had joined in celebrating, beaming at Harry's happiness, at least until Harry had finally gone to bed and gone to sleep.

"What is it?" asked Remus, as he found Sirius slumped in the kitchen, nursing a glass of Firewhiskey,

"I can't help thinking," he said with a sigh, "that when you two are gone, I'll be on my own again." Catching Remus' guilty look he quickly said, "Don't feel guilty Moony, you deserve this, and I couldn't be prouder. Harry was right: there isn't a better teacher in all of England. I just wish it didn't have to be this way. I wish I could wring the little rat's neck after showing him to the Ministry. Just remember to write, OK?"

"I could never forget, and it's not like Harry would ever forget. He loves you too much for that," Sirius gave a grim smile,

"Of course. Merlin I love that boy too. But sometimes he reminds me so much of James, and even Lily, it hurts,"

"I know what you mean," replied Remus, pouring himself a drink. He had a feeling it would be a long night,

"I try not to compare them, even though I know Harry loves being compared to his parents, because sometimes I get the feeling he thinks I only like him because I was James' best friend and Lily's friend," Remus' face twisted into a very uncharacteristic bitter look of complete loathing,

"It's those wretched Dursleys that did it, he's still got a complex from the, I hate to say it, hate to admit I let it happen, but the _abuse, _the _neglect_ he suffered at their hands. He's not used to be being liked for who he is. He's much better now, he's got us and his friends at Hogwarts, but sometimes I just want to go over there on Full Moon and let Moony take care of them," Sirius smirked and said,

"I wish you would, Moony. I really wish you would."

The next morning Remus swung wildly between drawing up lesson plans (then screwing them up and throwing them away in frustration) and pacing around the house in a panic. Sirius was torn between being amused at this, and worried. He didn't want Remus to decide not to become a Professor after all, even if he was scared of being on his own. Harry, on the other hand, was completely bemused, as being unable to see why Remus would be at all worried, since as far as he could see Remus was the best teacher he had ever had, and he was completely unused to the prejudice that followed werewolves. Harry knew of it, of course, but tended to ignore it or dismiss it, since he had never truly understood it. Remus was quick to explain it to him in a panicky voice when Harry tried to calm Remus down.

It took a few weeks, but eventually Remus returned to his normal, level self, the supposedly 'sensible' one of their little family, and he began to truly look forward to teaching at Hogwarts.

Then the letter came.

_Dear Remus,_

It said in its immediately recognisable loopy handwriting.

_I would be much obliged to you if you would take the Hogwarts Express to the school this year, as the Ministry intends to search the train with Dementors for Sirius. I have tried my best to dissuade them from this insane course, in the same way I tried to dissuade them from letting the Dementors guard the school, but they are resolute, the best I can do is make sure the students are protected in every way possible. _

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Albus_

"They're letting Dementors on the train! They're insane!" cried Sirius when he read the letter, his fist clenched, "This is even worse than having them around the school. If they were just around the school, at the school there might be a chance they wouldn't get near you," he then just looked at Remus, who merely nodded. If the students, especially Harry, were in danger, there was no way he could let that pass if there was anything he could do to help. And there was something he could do to help. He may not be an expert at fighting Dementors, far from it, but he at least had some skill.

The next morning Sirius and Remus did their best to put all thoughts of Hogwarts and Dementors out of their minds: something much more important was approaching. Harry's birthday. Their favourite boy in the whole world was turning thirteen and they couldn't decide what to get him, or what to do for his birthday.

"How about a Firebolt?" Y'know, the greatest broom in the world?" said Sirius, "It'd seriously outstrip the Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones," he finished, scowling. Sirius had been even more annoyed than Harry with Malfoy buying his way onto the Slytherin team (and that had been quite a feat),

"No," said Remus thoughtfully, "he's too attached to the Nimbus Two Thousand. Not that he wouldn't love a Firebolt, but first broom fondness and everything," Sirius nodded,

"Well then, that leaves us with a problem … unless …"

"Unless what?"

"It's a mad idea, but do you remember – remember when Harry was a baby, he had that toy snitch that would follow him everywhere. Was the loyalist little thing in the world … if it was still in Godric's Hollow, if it – it survived, it'd just hang around. Harry'd – he'd love it. Even if it was half dead after all this time,"

"Sirius, that's brilliant! Harry'll love it," said Remus, and they both spent a long moment pretending they weren't about to cry. Even after all this time, they still found it hard to think about James and Lily. "Course," said Remus, his voice oddly choked, "we'll have to find a way of going without Harry realising. He won't like us going out without him, _especially_ if he finds out _where_ we're going."

In the end (causing Remus to roll his eyes and state that Sirius was more of a child than Harry was because Sirius decided to whine and go off in a mood) it was decided that Sirius would stay at Grimmauld Place with Harry. The excuse given to Harry was that Remus was going out to get things for his upcoming Defence Against The Dark Arts lessons, some of which, for the more advanced classes, were dangerous, and so Harry could not come. Once he had come up with the excuse it occurred to Remus that he did need to buy things for his classes and decided to visit Diagon Alley after his visit to Godric's Hollow (he would probably need a drink at any rate, since he would be seeing the place where two of his best friends were murdered by the most evil man – thing that had ever existed).

The search was long and hard, but Remus was determined not to give up. The strange, half mad idea of Sirius' had caught him and refused to let go. He remembered that little toy snitch, like the photos on the wall, Harry's toy broomstick and their laughter. He remembered it like a symbol of a greater time, and he – they – wanted to give to it to Harry. Like they had imagined, the snitch was tired and slow, but it still contained a spark of its wonderful energy that had so delighted little Harry all those years ago.

Remus returned, tired, but triumphant. He had got the snitch, not to mention the very interesting things he had got for his Defence classes, but never mind that: now they needed to plan Harry's birthday outing, wherever that would be. Unfortunately, there weren't many places you could go with a convicted murderer and a werewolf, looking after The Boy Who Lived. Luckily for them, at that point Harry came rushing downstairs clutching a letter from one of his best friends, Ron, "Sirius, Remus," he yelled, "the Weasleys won the Daily Prophet Prize Draw, they're in Egypt, but Ron wants to meet up in Diagon Alley when they get back. Can we, please? Sirius can go as Padfoot,"

"Of course," said Remus, beaming, "I trust you haven't opened your presents early," he said, jokingly wagging his finger,

"Of course not, how could you ever think such a thing," replied Harry, mock offended, then grinning, he rushed back upstairs.

"Well that's that sorted out," said Sirius, once they had recovered from the little whirlwind that was Harry when he was happy.

Harry happily poured over the letters from Ron, Hermione and Hagrid on his bed, pausing every now and again to give the package from Hagrid a nervous look. It seemed to be growling. Harry just hoped that Hagrid didn't want help with some new pet. Harry liked Hagrid a lot, and last year he had proved him innocent of ever opening the Chamber of Secrets (admittedly that hadn't been the main aim of defeating Riddle, but a very happy side effect), but Harry knew that Hagrid did have an unfortunate fondness for what most people would call 'monstrous creatures'. As much as Harry liked Hagrid, he would always prefer to keep as away from Hagrid 'pets' as possible, except perhaps for the impossibly named Fang, who was the biggest coward you could ever meet. It seemed that Hagrid had a policy that, the more dangerous the creature, the cuter the name and the less dangerous the creature, the more dangerous the name. Fang and Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback, a dragon Hagrid had won, were two prime examples.

There was one other letter carried by a handsome tawny owl that Harry didn't recognise. As soon as Harry had relieved it of its parcel, it ruffled its feathers importantly and flew back out of the window. Although Harry did not recognise the owl he knew where the letter had come from, from the crest on the letter. It was the letter from Hogwarts. It was somewhat thicker than it normally was and, excited, remembering Remus and Sirius' stories about the Third Year trips to Hogmeade, Harry eagerly ripped it open. Several pieces of parchment fell out. The first was the normal Hogwarts letter, telling him that term would begin on the First of September, the second was the equipment list, and the third, the third was the one Harry had been eagerly awaiting. The permission slip for his trips to Hogsmeade.

Harry rushed back downstairs, clutching the permission slip and thrust it under the noses of his guardians. Sirius immediately grabbed it, aiming to sign it as Harry's guardian, but Remus softly put his hand on his arm. He, Remus, would have to be the one to sign it. Sirius scowled, but handed it over without complaint. Harry bowed his head. Perhaps it had been inconsiderate of him to remind Sirius of better days, and the things he could not do.

"One day," Remus whispered, "I promise," Sirius gave a single nod,

"Perhaps."


	3. Chapter 3

Harry grinned at the birthday presents his friends had sent him as Hedwig ruffled her feathers importantly. Who knew Hermione would ever care about Quidditch? Or at least, even if she didn't care about it, realise that it was perfectly acceptable for other people to (and might be just slightly obsessed with it) and put aside her love of books long enough to get him a _Broomstick Servicing Kit_.

Ron had given him a Pocket Sneakoscope. Harry loved it; Defence objects such as the Sneakoscope had always fascinated him, as Defence Against the Dark Arts was his favourite and best subject, which was especially impressive as his previous two teachers were dire. This was partly because Remus had always given him extra tuition in the subject they both loved. Harry was even more excited this year, because he knew Remus would be even better when he became Professor Lupin. Harry read the rest of Ron's letter and snickered at Ron's tales of his twin brothers pranks – they had put beetles in Ron's older brother, Bill's, soup, Harry put the Sneakoscope aside.

Harry happily wandered downstairs, preparing to ask Sirius and Remus about meeting Ron (and perhaps Hermione) in Diagon Alley, not that he was afraid they would say no or anything.

Remus and Sirius were already standing there, beaming and holding his present. Harry could immediately tell it was Remus who had wrapped it from the fact that it was more wrapping paper than tape and was possible to get into without a chainsaw. Sirius in particular looked excited, bouncing up and down, but then, that wasn't very different from how he usually looked.

Harry resisted the urge to rip the present open immediately, as would have usually done. There was something about Remus and Sirius' expressions that told him this parcel was extra special. At first he was confused. Seeing his expression Remus explained, "It's a toy snitch. It was yours when you were a baby, you loved it then. James always used to say you would be a Seeker one day, he used to joke about forming a Potter Quidditch Team, with him as the Chaser and you as the Seeker. We thought you might like it," he trailed off, unsure, gazing intently at Harry's face, but Harry wasn't looking at him. He was looking at the snitch,

"You know," said Harry, his voice oddly absent, "I can't explain it. It feels, the snitch feels sort of … familiar. You're all going to groan because of the cliché, but it feels like an old friend. Thank you so much for giving it to me,"

"Your welcome," said Sirius quietly, for once truly serious.

Harry spent hours playing with his new toy snitch after his birthday. There was some secret magic about it, some memory at the back of his mind, that meant he felt some inexplicable connection to the snitch.

As it turned out, as Remus jokingly put it, he was quite happy to have Harry out the house, so he could prepare his lessons. Harry also wanted to take Sirius, in the form of Padfoot, to Diagon Alley, but Remus vetoed the idea, sadly saying that the big, black, Grim-like dog would draw too much attention, especially as Harry already had one 'pet'.

When Harry got to Diagon Alley, he almost regretted going. The only topic of conversation seemed to be the sudden resurgence in the case of Sirius Black. Harry would have almost preferred to have heard about the Dementors posted around the castle walls and invading the Hogwarts Express. It was all he could do not to yell, sometimes, that Sirius was innocent, and they were chasing the wrong man.

Harry did enjoy meeting up with the Weasleys and Hermione, especially as talk of Sirius Black was kept to a minimum, though this was due to Mrs Weasley's desire to not frighten her children, Harry and Hermione, but Harry didn't mind the reason. The twins also introduced Harry to several of their new inventions, away from Mrs Weasley's prying eyes, and they discussed all the wonderful tricks they could get up to during the year.

The school shopping got done; new robes were bought, new books, owl treats for Hedwig. The Firebolt was gazed at, though he couldn't help feeling he wouldn't give up his Nimbus 2000, no matter how good this Firebolt was. Then, he went back to Grimmauld Place, and was greeted by a very human Sirius behaving much like his dog self as he bounded up to Harry and hugged him.

Soon, however, it was time to pack for Hogwarts. The snitch got tucked away in a small, secret place. Quite why he was so attached to it he wasn't quite sure, only that it held some part of his past.

As usual, Remus and Sirius accompanied Harry to the station, Sirius as Padfoot, only this time Remus was carrying one of his old battered briefcases with the words 'Professor R.' Charmed onto it, and a distinctly smug expression. He was going to be a teacher! Though he couldn't help worrying about the reason he was travelling on the train and not by any of the normal methods the professors might travel to Hogwarts. The Dementors. _Don't worry,_ he told himself, _you may not be an expert, but you can fight them off._

Remus and Harry happily boarded the train together and set about finding Ron and Hermione. "Who's that?" asked Ron, casting a suspicious eye over Remus, and ignoring Hermione's elbow in response to his rudeness,

"Professor Lupin," replied Harry, "our new Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher, and one of my guardians,"

"Ah, that explains why you're so friendly," said Hermione. "So is this Canis or Moony?" with that distinctive 'Hermione' expression that told all around she was eager to learn. Remus glanced at Harry, slightly worried, so he had told Ron and Hermione their nicknames then? Harry shot Remus an apologetic look; he couldn't exactly hide his letters from his friends could he? That would be even more suspicious.

"Moony," said Remus, trying to appear calm, and it seemed that all his experiences with the Marauders had paid off, because neither Ron nor Hermione realised that Remus was in the slightest bit worried,

"Don't worry," said Harry, "he'll be a great teacher, not that that's hard, after Lockhart."

"Wasn't he the self obsessed fraud you told me about?" asked Remus,

"Yeah," replied Harry and Hermione huffed,

"Honestly, he was so stupid, and stole so many other people's achievements, it's a wonder he wasn't found out earlier," Ron and Harry hid identical grins. Hermione clearly still hadn't gotten over being taken in by the handsome fraud.

Sitting shaking in Ron's top pocket was one very scared rat. He had hidden as soon as he had heard Remus Lupin's voice down the corridor. Peter Pettigrew had no doubt that Remus believed Sirius to be guilty, along with the rest of the wizarding world, Pettigrew allowed himself a moment of smugness there, and to think, they always called _him_ the stupid one, well look who was laughing now _Padfoot,_ but Pettigrew had no doubt that Remus had the brains to figure out the truth if he ever saw him. Remus had seen him transform enough times to recognise him easily enough.

Unknown to the group, back on the station there was a lonely dog, desperately trying not to get angry at once again being alone as he sloped back to the house he hated.


	4. Chapter 4

On the train, unknown to any of the trio, to Sirius, or to Remus, there was a certain treacherous rat sitting shivering in Ron's top pocket, terrified. He knew he had to be extra careful not to be seen now, he knew even after all this time Moon - _Lupin_ would still be able to recognise him. In fact, it was a miracle he hadn't already smelt him. It must not be close to Full Moon. It had been a long time since he had religiously kept track of the moon cycle with the other Marauders. _Stop it. Not the other Marauders. You are no longer part of the Marauders. You are no longer part of anything_. For a moment, Pettigrew almost felt sad, before determinedly shaking himself out of it. If he was to survive, he couldn't think longingly of the past.

…

Remus uncertainly took a seat in the compartment with Harry's friends. Although he obviously wanted to stay close to Harry, and get to know Harry's friends, he didn't know whether Harry would want him around when he had his friends to talk to, and would Harry's friends want a Professor in the compartment? But Harry had always been a unique, unusual boy, and his friends seemed much the same. Well, Hermione seemed enthusiastic to ask questions about lessons, in fact, scarily enthusiastic. Remus saw the two boys exchange amused, knowing looks. Ron seemed less enthusiastic, but Harry's good words about him seemed to quell any doubts about having a Professor in their compartment.

During the journey, Remus noticed a strange, half familiar smell. It left Remus almost wishing it was nearer the Moon, so he would know what it was, because as it was, the smell was driving him mad. He couldn't place it, and yet, he knew he knew it. He shook it his head. It wasn't important. Actually, knowing his luck it would be … OK. Now he was getting paranoid. Mad Eye would be proud.

Mid afternoon, just as it had started to rain, blurring the rolling hills outside the window, they heard footsteps in the corridor, and three people appeared at the door: Draco Malfoy, flanked, as usual, by his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, who seemed to exist to do Malfoy's bidding.

Remus scented trouble as soon as the pale boy with the pointed, sneering face appeared at the door. Although he wasn't entirely sure who the boy was, he could tell he wasn't here to exchange friendly greetings, and Harry, Ron and Hermione's posture and expressions had immediately become hostile. Remus would be willing to bet money that the boy was Malfoy.

"Well look who it is," said Malfoy in his usual lazy drawl, "Potty and the Weasel." Crabbe and Goyle chuckled trollishly,

"Clever," said Harry, "did you come up with that one all by yourself, or did Daddy have to help you?"

Remus chose this moment to intervene, knowing that if he did not, a fight would erupt, "I hope there's no trouble boys?" he said in his normal light tone, knowing full well that there was always trouble between these two boys,

"Who are you?" asked Malfoy, taking the moment to eye Remus' new robes. Sirius had insisted on treating Remus in honour of the occasion. Remus had insisted on nothing too expensive. Obviously the robes didn't meet Malfoy's standards and he barely repressed a sneer, obviously realising he was lucky not to be in trouble. This didn't bother anybody in the compartment; it wasn't like they cared what Malfoy thought.

"I am your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Professor Lupin, pleased to meet you. And you are?"

"Draco Malfoy. We'll … just be going now,"

"Pleased to hear it,"

Ron was looking at Remus with a new respect (Hermione had already given him the respect she automatically gave all teachers) anybody who put down Malfoy deserved respect in his book. Remus gave Ron a small smile. The rain thickened as the train sped yet further north, which gradually darkened until the lanterns flickered into life all along the corridors and over the luggage racks. The train rattled, the rain hammered, and the wind roared. Harry felt curiously uneasy. It wasn't the bad weather that bothered him, though, obviously, that wasn't pleasant, but Harry had never felt the train shake this much before. Harry knew it had to be just the wind, but he had always relied on his instincts: they had never let him down before and now he couldn't shake the feeling that something was definitely wrong.

The train started to slow down. "Brilliant," said Ron, getting up to try and see outside. "I'm starving, I want to get to the feast …"

"We can't be there yet," said Hermione, checking her watch.

"So why're we stopping?"

The train was getting slower and slower. Remus kept silent, but exchanged a glance with Harry. His eyes were alert and wary. He had a nasty feeling that they would shortly be meeting the Dementors, and now he was not overly sure he could handle them. The train came to a stop with a jolt and distant thuds and bangs told them that luggage had fallen out of the racks. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged into total darkness.

"What's going on?" said Ron's voice from behind Harry,

"It must be the Dementors," said Remus, speaking up for the first time and conjuring a handful of flames, lighting the compartment.

"Dementors? What are they doing here?" said Ron, worried,

"They are searching the train for Sirius Black. Stay behind me," but before Remus could move any further the compartment door suddenly opened and Neville fell painfully over Harry's legs.

"Sorry. D'you know what's going on? Ouch! Sorry-"

"Hullo Neville," said Harry, pulling Neville up by his cloak. The door slid open again and Ginny appeared. Once again Remus had to explain what was going on to the two newcomers, before getting up to talk to the driver.

Before he could reach the door, however, it slid open. Illuminated by the shivering flames in Remus' hand was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. Harry felt an odd sort of detached curiosity, _So this must be a Dementor_. Harry's eyes darted downwards, and immediately wished they hadn't. There was a hand protruding from the cloak, greyish and glistening, like something dead that had decayed in water …

It was visible only for a split second. As though the Dementor had sensed Harry's gaze, the hand was suddenly withdrawn into the folds of the rippling black material. And then the Dementor drew a slow, rattling breath, as though it was trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings.Harry had only ever heard Sirius talk once about Azkaban, but the memory of it had had such an impact that Harry recognised the Dementor's actions. He didn't have time to react to the knowledge though.

An intense cold swept over them all, wiping all other thoughts from Harry's mind. He felt his breath catch in his chest. The cold went deeper than his skin, _No ... can't give in_. But it was no good. The cold was inside his chest. It was inside his very heart …

Harry's eyes rolled up into his head. He couldn't see. He was drowning in cold. There was a rushing in his ears as though of water. Distant voices. Panicked voices. He was being dragged downwards, the roaring growing louder, ever louder …

And then, from far away, he heard a screaming, terrible, terrified, pleading screams. He wanted to help whoever it was, he tried to move his arms, but couldn't … a thick white fog was swirling around him, inside him-

"Harry! Harry! Wake up!"

"W-what?"

Harry opened his eyes. There were lanterns above him, and the floor was shaking – the Hogwarts Express was moving again and the lights had come back on. He had slid out of his seat onto the floor. His mind was confused. Ron, Hermione and Remus were all kneeling beside him. When he put his hand to push his glasses back on he felt drenched in cold sweat and he couldn't stop shivering.

Ron and Hermione heaved him back onto the seat.

"Are you OK?" Ron asked nervously.

"Yeah," Harry replied. Nobody in the compartment looked like they believed him. After all 'I'm fine' was the lie he most often told. "Who screamed?"

"No one screamed," said Ron, more nervously still. Harry slowly remembered what he had learnt about the effects of Dementors, and the scream … but it couldn't have been, he couldn't have been remembering the final moments of …

Hermione reached out a sympathetic hand, but before she could reach him, he snapped, "Don't touch me! Don't look at me!" and retreated into a corner. Ron and Hermione looked shocked, but they were thankfully distracted by Remus breaking a block of chocolate into pieces. As he gave Harry a particularly large piece he gave him an understanding look, letting him know that he too had figured out who was screaming.

"Eat it. It'll help."

Harry took the chocolate, but didn't eat it. Everyone stared at him. Remus crumpled up the empty chocolate wrapper and put it in his pocket. "I need to speak to the driver, excuse me, Harry," he seemed reluctant to go but walked past Harry and disappeared into the corridor.

"I – I thought you were having a fit or something, but Professor Lupin said it was because of the Dementor," said Ron, who still looked scared. "You went sort of rigid and fell out your seat and started twitching-"

"And Professor Lupin stepped over you and walked towards to Dementor and pulled out his wand, said Hermione. "And he said, 'None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go.' But it the Dementor didn't move, so Lupin muttered something and a silvery thing shot out of his wand and it sort of glided away …"

"It was horrible," said Neville, in a higher voice than usual. "Did you feel how cold it went when it came in?"

"I felt weird," said Ron, shifting uncomfortably. "Like I'd never be cheerful again …" Ginny was huddled in the corner looking nearly as bad as Harry. Her eyes were wide open like she was afraid to close them. Harry supposed that she too had been remembering things she would rather forget. She gave a choked sob that she had been trying to hold in and Hermione went over and put a comforting arm around her.

"But didn't any of you – fall off your seats?" asked Harry awkwardly, involuntarily glancing at Ginny. Ginny had had the most terrible experience imaginable _only last year_ and yet even she wasn't affected nearly as much as he was. Was he just weak?

"No," said Ron, looking anxiously at Harry again and drawing Harry from his thoughts. "Ginny was shaking like mad though …" glancing, worried, at his little sister.

Remus reappeared at the doorway. He paused as he entered, looked around and gave a small smile, "I haven't poisoned that chocolate you know …"

Harry felt slightly comforted by Remus' familiar humour. Harry took a bite of the chocolate and felt a warmth spread to tips of his fingertips and toes. "We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes. Are you all right Harry?" Harry gave a single tired nod and began to feel slightly comforted as they arrived at the familiar scene of Hogwarts.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N – I'm so sorry for the long delay in updating, and thank you for everybody that reviewed, favourited and added this story to their story alerts, it was a real encouragement. Basically I went to University and got a bit overwhelmed, especially because of illness stuffs … anyway. Life has been hectic to say the least. This story got kinda pushed aside. And now I'm preparing for second year. Gulp. I think it'll be less hectic than my first, now that I pretty much know what I'm doing, but I'll still be pretty busy. I'll try to keep a regular update from now on, I promise._

…

Remus sat down and gave a wry smile, "I suppose I should give you all a small lesson on Dementors, since I'm your new Professor," he said before turning deadly serious. "Dementors are one of the foulest creatures to walk the earth. They feed on every happy thought, every good time, forcing you to relive your worst memories, until all a person is left with is those memories and their darkest thoughts. Muggles cannot see Dementors, but can feel their affects. Let me make this very clear to you, all of you. Dementors will not distinguish between friend and foe, between the one they hunt, and the tasty snack that stands in their way."

The compartment shivered as one and there was silence for the rest of the journey, broken only by the snapping of a chocolate bar as Professor Lupin continued to hand it out, gradually making them all feel better.

At long last the train stopped at Hogsmeade station, and there was a great scramble to get out: owls hooted, cats hissed and miaowed, and Trevor, Neville's toad, croaked loudly from under his hat. It was freezing on the platform and rain was driving down in icy sheets.

"Firs' years this way," called a familiar voice. Harry, Ron and Hermione turned and saw Hagrid beckoning the terrified looking First Years to the boats. Hagrid called out to them, but there was too many people to reply.

"Feel sorry for them," muttered Harry, looking at the First Years, "First Year and they get Dementors on the train, _and_ they're probably going to drown. Weather's bad enough," Ron and Hermione just nodded as they waved to Hagrid.

Harry was silent on the coach ride as well, but not so much because of the after affects of the Dementor. His mind was now catching up with events and he had begun thing. He knew what Remus – Professor Lupin had been insinuating to him in his little speech about Dementors (as well as, of course, informing them about Dementors); the Dementors particularly affected him because of his experiences and memories. His parent's death, his time at the Dursleys. But there had been others in that compartment who had had terrible experiences just as much. Neville, for one. Though he knew very little about the elder Longbottom's fate; Remus and Sirius had said very little out of respect for Neville's privacy, he knew it was terrible. Not to mention Ginny – what had happened to her just last year would scar anybody for life, and she was only eleven at the time, but for some reason the Dementors had seemed to find him particularly tasty.

Getting out of the coach he had to endure teasing from Malfoy and his cronies (though when _wasn't_ Malfoy getting at him?) and sympathetic looks and comments from nearly everybody else, who had also had to suffer the Dementors.

…

Severus Snape sat through the Sorting Ceremony (no promising new Slytherins, though Albus was always telling him not to judge too soon. Then, Snape always replied, why did they have the _Sorting_ Ceremony, if not to judge? In spite of the Headmaster's opinions, he had an uncanny eye for these things, and was rarely wrong). He sat through the Headmaster's welcoming speech, which focused on the dangers of Dementors and even _clapped_ when the two new Professors (Hagrid and Lupin) were announced.

Anybody who had known Snape's history and character would've said, with absolute confidence, that Snape would've been the least likely to show a sign of respect (small though it was) to Remus Lupin. His undying hatred, or, at least, dislike (it was nothing, after all, compared to his feelings towards James Potter or Sirius Black) had, however, cooled somewhat over recent years, allowing this gesture.

Snape would always insist it was just relief that Lupin wasn't _Gilderoy-Bloody-Lockhart_. The other Professors could understand that particular sentiment.

…

Harry, now comfortably stuffed after the feast, joined the other Gryffindors streaming up the marble staircases, along more corridors, up more and more stairs to the secrets entrance to the Gryffindor Tower and he, along with the rest of the Gryffindors, was ready to start a riot (if they had had the strength) when they found a Fat Lady resolutely refusing to let then through.

"Let me through, let me through. The password's _Fortuna Major_." Percy Weasley was bustling through from the back importantly, sticking out his chest on which was stuck a badge, which said … _Bighead Boy_. Harry looked at Ron questioningly, "Percy was made Head Boy," Ron explained, "didn't shut up about it for one moment during the holidays. Anyway, Fred and George charmed the badge to say 'Bighead Boy'"

"How's he not noticed yet?"

Ron shrugged, "They must've charmed him not to notice. I mean, he polishes the thing. S'brilliant, don't you think?" Harry nodded, wondering how you could charm somebody not to notice something. A charm like that could come in useful. He was thinking of a letter to write Sirius about what charm to use and possible prank ideas as he slipped off to sleep.

…

_Cold … Fear … A green light … A scream … A high laugh … Laughter but not laughter … This man never laughed … He turned to Harry -_

Harry's eyes snapped open. He hadn't had The Dream in years. Well, at least now he knew who the woman screaming was, and why he had felt such a desperate need to help her. It was his Mum, and he was hearing the moment of her death.

His Mum. Harry squeezed his eyes shut as he shivered. He tried to picture all the photos and memories Sirius and Remus had given him. He tried … but no. He could picture the photos, but all he could remember was her death.

He felt a sudden rush of anger. It was the Dementors. The Dementors forcing him to remember his Mum's death.

He needed to talk to Remus about anti-Dementor lessons.

…

_A/N – I know in canon Harry doesn't figure out who the scream belongs to until much later but I figured with Sirius and Remus' influence his parents would have a much bigger influence on his life. Also there is a bit about Harry remembering a flash and a laugh in the first book, so I just connected the two bits. Really, I thought of the dream scene, and I couldn't not write it. And it seems to fit._


	6. Chapter 6

Harry couldn't talk to Remus immediately as he had classes. His first class was Divination. Harry had always been fascinated with Divination ever since he learned about the prophecy about Voldemort and him, even though Sirius and Remus had admitted they didn't know the words to the prophecy.

_There are very few true Seers in the world, _Sirius had told him, _though if the class is any good you'll be learning a lot besides attempting Seeing. I still wouldn't recommend the class, but if you're sure._

_I'm sure,_ he'd replied, _I need to know all I can about prophecies. Not because of the future so much as … it was the reason, _Sirius had nodded, _besides, _he had said with a grin,_ Ron and Hermione will be in the class so it's bound to be fun_.

…

Hermione, it seemed, had decided to take everything. Which was, of course, impossible, but that hadn't seemed to stop Hermione. Hermione refused to answer any questions on the subject.

After giving up questioning Hermione about her impossible timetable they headed to Divination. Well, at least, Harry had had given up questioning Hermione. Ron and Hermione were, as usual, arguing. Harry tuned out the round about argument of "So what if my timetable's a little full, I've told you, I've sorted it out with Professor McGonagall,"

"A little full! Hermione, it's impossible. You're doing three classes at once at some times!"

"Don't be silly, of course I won't be in three classes at once."

"But there isn't enough _time_."

…

The journey through the castle to the North Tower was a long one. Two years at Hogwarts hadn't taught them everything about the castle, and they had never been to the North Tower before, well, at least not deliberately. Harry thought he might have been one night time wandering under the Invisibility Cloak.

There's – got – to – be – a – short – cut," Ron panted, as they climbed their seventh long staircase and emerged on an unfamiliar landing, where there was nothing but a large painting of a bare stretch of grass hanging from the stone wall.

Harry was watching the painting. A fat dapple-grey pony had just ambled onto the grass and was grazing nonchalantly. A moment later a short, squat knight in a suit of armour clanked into the picture after his pony. By the look of the grass stains on his metal knees, he had just fallen off.

"Aha!" he yelled, seeing Harry, Ron and Hermione. "What villains are these that trespass upon my private lands! Come to scorn at my fall, perchance? Draw, you knaves, you dogs!"

They watched as the little knight tugged his sword out of his scabbard and started brandishing it about violently, hopping up and down with rage. But the sword was too long for him; a particularly wild swing made him overbalance, and he landed face down in the grass.

"Are you all right?" asked Harry, moving closer to the picture.

"Get back you scurvy braggart! Back, you rogue!"

Harry began to grin, "Hey, I think I know you," he said. "They told me about you. You're Sir Cadogan aren't you? The ma – er, brave knight of the North Tower."

The knight paused in his wild flailing, "You have heard of me, sir?"

Harry, catching on, answered, "Indeed, good sir, I have heard of your many brave and noble deeds, and we have a quest that perchance you could help us with. We are searching for the Divination classroom."

"A quest!" Sir Cadogan seemed to brighten considerably at the thought of a quest. "Well follow me, dear friends, and we shall find our goal, or perish bravely in the attempt!" And he ran out of the left hand side of the frame and out of sight.

They hurried after him along the corridor, following the sound of his armour. Every now and then they spotted him in a picture ahead. "Be of stout heart, the worst is yet to come!" the knight yelled when they saw him reappear in front of a alarmed (and one very angry) group of nuns, whose picture hung on the wall of a narrow, spiral staircase.

Puffing loudly Harry, Ron and Hermione climbed up the tightly spiralling staircase, getting dizzier and dizzier until at last they heard the class above them.

"Farewell!" the knight cried as he popped his head into a picture of some sinister looking monks. "Farewell, my comrades-in-arms! If you should ever have need of noble heart and steely sinew, call, once again, upon Sir Cadogan!"

"Yeah, we'll call you," muttered Ron as the knight disappeared, "if we ever need someone mental."

They climbed the last few steps and emerged onto a tiny landing where most of the class was already assembled. There were no doors of this landing; Ron nudged Harry and pointed at the at the ceiling where there was a circular trap door with a brass plaque on it.

"Sybill Trelawney, Divination Teacher," Harry read. "How're we supposed to get up there?"

As though in answer to his question, the trap door suddenly opened, and a silvery ladder descended right at Harry's feet. Everybody went quiet.

"After you," said Ron, grinning, so Harry climbed the ladder first. He emerged in the strangest looking classroom he had ever seen. In fact, it didn't look like a classroom at all; more like a cross between an attic and an old fashioned teashop. At least twenty small, circular tables were crammed inside it, all surrounded by chintz armchairs and fat little pouffes. Everything was lit with a dim, crimson light; the curtains at the windows were all closed. It was stiflingly warm, and the fire which was burning under the crowded mantelpiece was giving off a heavy, sickly perfume.

Harry knew he shouldn't judge too soon, but it didn't look like the sort of place where he could learn the theories, background and intricacies of Divination that he had wanted to learn.

Ron appeared at Harry's shoulder, "Where is she,"

A voice came out of the shadows, a soft, misty sort of voice, despite which sounded rather pleased at the confusion it had created.

"Welcome," it said, "how nice to see you all at last."

Harry's immediate impression was of a large, glittering insect, covered in bangles and beads.

"Sit my children, sit," she said, and they all climbed awkwardly into the chairs and onto the pouffes. "Welcome to Divination. My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before, I find that descending into the hustle and bustle of school life clouds my Inner Eye." There was a pause as everybody took in this proclamation. "So you have chosen to study Divination, the most difficult of all the magical arts. I must warn you from the outset that if you do not possess the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you. Books can only take you so far in this field …"

Harry's heart sank. So Trelawney would just be trying to get them to See and not teaching them anything else. Ron, however, was grinning at Hermione, who looked startled that books wouldn't be much help with the subject. Trelawney then went on to make a series of impressive sounding predictions as Harry's interest rapidly waned.

Hermione had a curious expression on her face as she listened to Trelawney. Of course, Hermione paying absolute attention to a teacher was hardly unusual, but this was different. Almost … calculating. Eventually she turned to Ron and Harry and whispered, "Have you heard of Cold Reading?" Ron shook his head and Harry nodded. "There's a trick some Muggle performers do to sound like they're predicting the future or reading your mind when they're not really, obviously. Some are extraordinarily good at it."

"And you think that's what Trelawney is doing?" Harry whispered back. Hermione nodded uneasily. They were both thinking the same thing – a fraud on the staff was not a comfortable thought. It had happened before, of course, but Lockhart had been found out within the year. Trelawney had been there for just over a decade.

Eventually they paired up to read tea leaves, although Harry found, not his great surprise, that he could only see 'A load of soggy brown stuff' in Ron's cup. He was now half asleep, due to the incense. However, when Ron mentioned seeing an animal he couldn't identify in Harry's cup, Trelawney was by their table faster than would have been thought possible. She snatched the cup, gasped, dropped it and her, now familiar, dramatic fashion, pronounced that she had seen the Grim, the Omen of Death, in Harry's cup and that he was going to die.

…

_Brilliant_, Harry thought as he descended the ladder and the winding staircase. _Wonderful_. He was being stared at more than usual as they walked to Transfiguration, some of then seemingly expecting him to drop dead any minute, some of them dismissive.

He wondered if it was too late to change an elective. He would have to talk to Professor McGonagall.

…

_A/N – Nothing to say, except please review. It's the best feeling and the best encouragement to a writer._


	7. Chapter 7

Professor Minerva McGonagall was not an arrogant woman, however, she also did not believe in false modesty. She knew how good of a teacher she was, she could explain, with time, the most complex of transfigurations even to those with no aptitude for the subject. She could also control the rowdiest of classes and was one of the few people the Weasley twins truly respected. However, the silence that had descended on her Third Years was unnatural and felt oppressive. She had her suspicions for the reason, but she needed them confirmed.

"Really, what has got into you all today?"

The class remained nervously silent, although many turned their heads towards one Harry Potter. McGonagall's suspicions increased. Eventually Hermione Granger raised her hand, "Please Professor, we've just had our first Divination lesson, and we were reading tea leaves, and-"

"Ah, of course." Damn Sybill. Minerva understood Dumbledore's reasons for protecting the woman, of course, and she sympathised with Sybill in a way, but couldn't Dumbledore have protected Sybill someway where she wasn't inflicted on the unsuspecting students? "There is no need to say any more, Miss Granger. Tell me, which one of you will be dying this year?"

Everyone stared at her.

"Me," Harry said finally, from the back of the class. McGonagall almost felt like cursing. She had her suspicions that Potter already knew about the Prophecy, and that it was the reason he had taken Divination in the first place. McGonagall could only imagine what he was thinking, to go into a class to gain an insight on the Prophecy and instead have your death foretold, she could only imagine how he was joining the dots.

"I see," she said in her best 'no nonsense' voice. "Then you should know, Potter, that Sybill Trelawney has predicted the death of one student a year since she has started at this school. None of them have died yet. Seeing Death Omens is her favourite way of greeting a new class. If it were not for the fact that I never speak ill of my colleagues-" McGonagall drew a sudden, deep breath. She had been getting carried away, but it didn't matter. Glancing at Potter it seemed he had calmed down somewhat and accepted her message.

"Divination is a very imprecise branch of magic, the theory, background and intricacies can be learnt, but the actual Art of Seeing is a gift one is born with. True Seers are very rare." She stopped herself before she insulted Trelawney again, and glanced at Potter. "You look in excellent health to me, Potter, so you'll excuse me if I don't let you off homework. I assure you, should you die, you need not hand it in."

Pleased that this seemed to lighten up the class somewhat she continued with her explanation of an Animagus, a subject she noted with a creeping sense of dread, Harry Potter seemed _very_ interested in.

…

"Wait for me," Harry muttered to Ron and Hermione after the class, and approached Professor McGonagall, who was apparently rearranging her papers.

"Professor," McGonagall looked up. "I want to change electives,"

"May I ask which one, Mr Potter?" although Harry had no doubt she knew.

"Divination. I wanted to learn the theory, etc, and it doesn't seem I'll learn that in Tre – Professor Trelawney's class." McGonagall nodded.

"Do you know which elective you'll take up in replacement, Mr Potter?"

"Probably Ancient Runes, but I'm not entirely sure yet, Professor."

"And your friends?"

Harry glanced behind him. Hermione looked unsure, and Harry was convinced that she, like him, believed Trelawney to be a fake and the class a waste of time. However, actually getting Hermione to give up a class would be near impossible.

Ron also looked unsure, and Harry was sure he had been thrown of course by the opening class. Ron mouthed 'Ancient Runes?' to which Harry mouthed back, 'More exciting than it sounds, but don't just take what I'm taking,' Ron nodded. He, out of the three of them, had been least sure that the prediction was fake, but he had found the class, with it's frankly batty teacher and overwhelming incense, horrible, and it would be unbearable without his friends.

Ron stepped forward, "I'm changing too, Professor, though I'm not sure I'll change to Ancient Runes."

Professor McGonagall let them go, a small smile on her face. Now, if only she could persuade the obsessively studious Hermione to drop the useless subject that would only be taking up her study time.

…

After lunch they had their first ever Care of Magical Creatures class and they walked down the sloping lawns down to Hagrid's Hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It was only when he spotted three only-too-familiar backs of the heads that he realised that they must be taking the class with the Slytherins and his heart sank. Malfoy was talking animatedly to Crabbe and Goyle, who were nodding and chortling when he paused. Harry was quite sure he knew what they were talking about.

Hagrid was waiting for them at the door to his hut, looking impatient to start and for one nasty moment Harry thought Hagrid was going to lead them into the Forbidden Forest. However Hagrid lead them to a patch near the trees where there was a rough sort of paddock, filled with a group of Hippogriffs.

"I don't know whether this is brilliant or mental on Hagrid's part," Harry said to Ron and Hermione, and they nodded. It made for an impressive opening lesson, sure, but how would a bunch of uncertain Third Years deal with the easily offended Hippogriffs, especially idiots like Malfoy who, most likely, wouldn't listen to Hagrid.

Malfoy was complaining loudly about how Hogwarts had gone to the dogs since it had to employ Hagrid as a teacher and, predictably, that he was going to complain to his father about it. Harry repeatedly told him to shut up and moved the general conversation onto other things, since he knew Hagrid was incredibly sensitive of his status as a not fully qualified wizard (and half-giant, but they weren't supposed to know that).

…

Flying a hippogriff, Harry decided, was a curious sensation. For one, it was completely and utterly different from flying a broomstick. He was sitting a great big _animal_, not a varnished wooden broomstick with a charmed cushion. He controlled the broomstick entirely, to the point where he sometimes he even forgot it was there. He could never forget that Buckbeak was there. He could nudge Buckbeak one way or the other, and if Buckbeak wanted to he would turn, but it was very clear, from the first time that he had met Buckbeak's beady eyes, that Buckbeak was giving _him_ the ride; he was not riding Buckbeak.

Harry landed, windswept and exhilarated. Emboldened by Harry's success the rest of the class surged forward, bowing to, and patting their hippogriffs. Hagrid walked up to Harry and nudged him, "So, how was flying a hippogriff, Harry?"

"Brilliant … Professor." Harry grinned back, before the back of his mind vaguely registered Malfoy stupidly insulting Buckbeak. Harry, whose reactions had been honed by Sirius and Remus, who were half terrified Harry would get himself into fights and half terrified he would be attacked, whipped out his wand and, not having time to utter any specific spells, simply _pushed_ and Malfoy was flung, none too delicately, out of the way of Buckbeak's rage.

Hagrid was immediately in front of Buckbeak, calming him down. Malfoy, fuming (although the look was ruined by the leaves in his hair), was now up and had his wand pointed at Harry. Harry, spoiling for a fight, kept his own wand pointed at Malfoy, but said nothing.

Hagrid's heart rate began to slow down after he had got Buckbeak calmed down, but then he noticed the Malfoy boy was now angry with Harry. After taking a moment to remember that _he_ was the teacher, and therefore supposed to be in control of the class and sort this out, he rounded on Malfoy.

"Oh, no you don't, Malfoy. Put that wand away before I take points."

"But Potter-"

"He saved your life and you know it."

"But the hippogriff-"

"You had been told _specifically_ not to insult the hippogriffs. Very proud creatures. But you insulted Buckbeak. How did you expect him to react? Ten points from Slytherin."

Malfoy was silent, but there might have been a mumble of, "My Father _will_ hear about this," but Malfoy bringing up his Father was now background noise to all of them, and so they ignored it.

…

Hagrid sat in his hut feeling fairly happy. His first lesson had gone well! He was a proper teacher and everything! OK, a student had nearly gotten maimed, but he hadn't gotten maimed in the end, and it was his own fault for not listening. Probably thought Care of Magical Creatures was a doss lesson. Idiot kid. Didn't Malfoy realise he was a proper teacher now? Professor Dumbledore said so and everything. He had stopped Harry and Malfoy from killing each other, which was a sort of trial by fire for any teacher and he had taken House Points. He had to stop himself feeling like a fraud when he took House Points …

…

Harry was pensive as they walked to Defence Against the Dark Arts. He was sure Malfoy was determined to get Hagrid fired, and last year had proved the Ministry was already prejudiced against Hagrid. Harry would just have to keep an eye on Malfoy.

And he still needed to talk to Remus about his 'Dementor Problem'.

Still, Remus' – Professor Lupin's Harry reminded himself, first lesson. This was bound to be fun.


	8. Author's Note

Hi, and sorry to my readers. I'm stopping writing this story. I just felt it was growing very, very tired, and the overwhelming feeling that everybody knew basically what was going to happen hindered me. Yes, it's A/U in parts, with the Third Year being the most A/U of the lot, but it was parts, and I felt like I'd got stuck in a rut of basically stuck in a rut of almost copying the books with large differences here and there (for those of you wondering what would happen to Harry in this story, he takes Ancient Runes, which would affect his choices in the future, he proves Sirius innocent and Sirius survives the fifth book, because Harry has the mirror, dammit.)

Anyway, enough of my whining. If you actually enjoyed this fanfiction enough to get this far, I'm sorry for disappointing you, and please check out my other writing.


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